


Chicken Soup for the Arrogant Soul

by Tiredbutawesome



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur can’t cook, Canon Compliant, Canon Rewrite, Cooking, Does it count as slow burn if they don’t actually do anything about it?, Domestic Fluff, Episode: s02e02 The Once and Future Queen, M/M, Merlin is a Little Shit, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-17 08:08:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28721913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tiredbutawesome/pseuds/Tiredbutawesome
Summary: Arthur is staying at Guinevere’s home and promises to make her dinner. The only problem? He has no idea how to do that.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 86





	Chicken Soup for the Arrogant Soul

**Author's Note:**

> Did I write this just to have a “guiding your hands with mine to show you how to do something” moment? Yes. I am not ashamed. I wrote this immediately after seeing the episode, but I waited until after I finished the series to post it.

Arthur had no idea what he had just gotten himself into. Why did he say he would cook? He’d never cooked a thing in his life! The only time he’d set foot in a kitchen before now was to sneak pastries while the chef wasn’t looking. He began to examine the bird carcass on the counter. He assumed it was a chicken, but, come to think of it, he couldn’t be entirely sure. He began to examine it closer when Merlin walked through the door.

“Merlin, thank god!” He sighed, relief clear in his tone.

Merlin gazed at him skeptically “Gwen says you’re cooking?”

“I need you to fetch two dinners from the palace kitchens” he ordered.

“So you’re not cooking?” Merlin tried not to sound relieved. Lord knows what Arthur would do if left in a kitchen unsupervised. If the way he was staring at the chicken was any clue, it would no doubt have ended in disaster.

“No, but Gwen doesn’t need to know that. As far as she’s concerned, dinner will be prepared and cooked by me.” Arthur smiled wryly, as if he had just concocted a foolproof scheme. 

“And you don’t think she’d notice that you were serving her food of royal quality, no doubt made with ingredients she would never have access to?” Merlin countered. 

Arthur’s expression changed. He almost looked confused. “What do you mean ‘never have access’ why wouldn’t she have access? Don’t they have markets here?” 

“Has it occurred to you that the high quality ingredients and spices you are so used to are more than she can afford? What am I saying? Of course not, that would require you to think about someone else for a change!” Merlin snapped. He sighed, calming himself before continuing. “Look, you can’t serve her a castle dinner. She’ll know you’re lying to her, and you’ll make things worse than you already have. You have to cook it yourself.”

“But I don’t know how! I was, well, you know-“

“Waited on hand and foot since birth and therefore never had to learn any practical life skills? I figured, which is why I’m going to help you.” 

“Well I wouldn’t have put it like that...” Arthur grumbled. “Wait, you’re going to help me?” 

“Yeah, I’m no chef, but I did help my mother in the kitchen. Picked up a few things. And before you ask, yes, this will be better than the rat stew I made for you. Which I still think was rather good considering the circumstances!” 

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s get on with it then, what do we do first?” Arthur replied, waving his hand dismissively. 

“First, we find a recipe.” Merlin said, rifling through a few drawers and containers before finally procuring a piece of parchment with writing neatly scrawled on it. “Ah, here we are.” 

He began to look through the kitchen, grabbing different ingredients and setting them on the counter. 

Arthur watched him in a bit of a daze. “Wait, what do I do?” Merlin handed him a bundle of carrots and an onion.

“Chop these while I take care of the chicken.” The task seemed easy enough. He had used a knife before. Well, it was more of a dagger really, and he had mainly used it during his hunts, but that was beside the point. He began to hack at one of the carrots with the knife he found next to the cutting board. Merlin suppressed an amused laugh.

“You’re not trying to kill it, sire. Here, let me help you.” Suddenly, Merlin was standing inches away from him, adjusting his grip on the knife. He began to guide Arthur’s hand with his own, slowly chopping the carrot into small, even pieces. Arthur found that he didn’t mind the closeness. It was rather nice, actually. Merlin’s hands, though calloused from years of hard labor, felt almost gentle against his skin. He was starting to think he could get used to this sort of thing when Merlin broke the silence. 

“There you go. Think you can manage the rest of these without my help?” And with that, he was snapped back into reality. 

“Right- yeah, of course.” He responded. Merlin had already begun to turn away.

“Great, be careful with the onion, though. The smell will cause your eyes to well up.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous, I’m not going to tear up because of some vegetable. I’m a knight, for heaven’s sake!” 

Lo and behold, not five minutes later, Arthur had tears streaming down his face. 

“Stupid onion,” he muttered “making me look a fool in front of my own servant.” 

Merlin, noticing Arthur’s struggle, quickly ushered him away from the cutting board. “I’ve got it, it’s hard when you’re not used to it.” He said, sympathetically, as he took the knife gingerly into his hand. Arthur watched as he made quick work of chopping the onion, without so much as a sniffle. 

For a moment, he could imagine what Merlin was like as a young boy, working in his mother’s kitchen. The knife would have been a bit big for his hands back then, as he wasn’t exactly the tall and broad-shouldered type like Arthur was. He was certainly strong though. He had to be, carrying all of Arthur’s things around every day without much complaint. (Well, “not much” for Merlin was more than it was for most.) Though he wasn’t the type to exercise just for the sake of it, Arthur would bet his last dime that the man’s tunic hid a great deal of lean muscle, which would explain why he could handle all the work Arthur threw at him. Truth be told, Arthur gave him more to do partly because he liked bossing him around (it was one of the only ways to get that smug look off his face), but also because he enjoyed the company, though he’d never admit it.  
It was at this point he realized that Merlin had been speaking to him, as the man looked to be awaiting his response to something.

“Sorry, what was that? Couldn’t hear you over the - uh, stove.” He lied, his hand coming up to the back of his neck.

“I said, I know I’m a good looking man, but you’ve got more important things to do than stare at me while I do all the work.” Merlin said. Arthur ought to hit him for that remark. To be fair, he had been watching Merlin as he worked. How else was he supposed to learn if not through observation? The fact that Merlin was attractive had nothing to do with it. 

Arthur’s cheeks flushed “I was not staring, don’t flatter yourself. I was just waiting for you to give me the knife back.” He gestured to said knife, which Merlin had just set aside. 

“There’s no need, you’ve already chopped the rest of the vegetables. Just add these to the pot, and stir the broth. Then, I’ll show you how to cook a chicken.” He stepped to the side, motioning for Arthur to take the cutting board. 

In half an hour, they were clearing off the counter while the soup simmered away on the stovetop. They had developed a rhythm, Arthur would gather everything up and hand it to Merlin, who actually knew what to do with it. The whole affair was comfortable, if not downright domestic. 

“Alright, that should be the last of it.” Merlin announced, setting two places at the table. “The soup will be done in about ten minutes, use the ladle to serve it, and make sure you get a good amount of vegetables in each dish, they tend to sink to the bottom of the pot.” He began to walk toward the door. “I should be off then, Gaius is probably wondering where I’ve been”

“You mean you won’t be joining us?” Arthur asked. His servant turned to face him.

“It would be awfully suspicious if I were here when Gwen returned, seeing how you were supposed to have done all this yourself.” He gestured to the pot of soup to the table in a sweeping motion as he spoke. “Good luck, by the way, not that you’ll need it. I’m sure she’ll enjoy it.” He turned once again towards the door and was about to leave when Arthur grabbed his arm. 

“Wait.” He said. Merlin rolled his eyes and turned back around, only to find that the eyes that met his own had an almost desperate look to them. “I wanted... to thank you, for helping me. I know I’m not exactly nice to you, and you have to have noticed by now that I give you more work than is really fair.”

“I am the servant of the Crown Prince of Camelot. It is my duty to do as you wish, regardless of the task.” 

“Yes, but you’re also not afraid to tell me when I’m making a fool of myself. It’s not often that I get treated like that... like a real person. Hell, even my father treats me like I’m some fragile artifact from time to time. When it’s just you and me, I feel like I don’t have to be ‘the Crown Prince of Camelot’ I can just be who I am. I’ve never really thanked you for that.” He seemed to be drawing closer as he spoke. 

Merlin didn’t know if he should be delighted or nervous. It’s not that he didn’t appreciate such kind words, but it wasn’t like Arthur to be so... sincere. He put his hand on the other man’s shoulder, but did not push him away.

“Careful now, Arthur. Wouldn’t want to say anything you’ll regret.” His face had a bittersweet expression to it as he said this, his playful smile not quite meeting his eyes.

“A great man lives his life without regret,” he responded, placing his hand over the one Merlin had on his shoulder. “Are you suggesting I am not a great man?” He smirked.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, sire.” Merlin replied. His smile seemed more genuine now, more relaxed. “But really, I ought to be going. Wouldn’t want to impose.” 

“You did all this work to prepare a decent meal and you’re not even going to eat it? That hardly seems fair.” 

“I couldn’t possibly take all the credit, you helped plenty. In fact, I’d say you did quite well, considering you’ve never done this before.” 

“Don’t be stupid, a toddler could have done what I did!”

“Yes, but none so well as you, my lord.” Came the snarky reply.

“You’re really not staying, are you?”

“If I was here when Gwen walked through the door, she’d automatically assume I did all the work”

“But you did do all the work.” 

“I am not the one who promised to cook dinner on my own.” 

“Oh, right, I had forgotten that part.”

“You mean the entire reason we’re in this situation in the first place?” 

“Yeah, that.” He paused for a moment. “But what if you weren’t here when she walked through the door? You could leave now and come back later, she would be none the wiser.” 

“We only made enough for two servings. Besides, I wouldn’t want to impose on your date.” 

“Date? It’s not a date! I’m just proving a point!”

“By making her dinner? Yeah, sure, it’s not like that could be considered a romantic gesture at all!” He said sarcastically, though he couldn’t seem to stop smiling. 

The fact that Arthur didn’t see it as a date made him feel better about the whole thing, though he couldn’t imagine why. It’s not like he was in love with Guinevere, despite popular belief. Perhaps he was just protective of her. That made sense, she was pretty vulnerable after the death of her father, not that “vulnerable” is a word anyone could use to describe Gwenivere. Certainly it wasn’t because of Arthur.

He’d have to think more on that later, as he caught a glimpse of a figure approaching through the window. 

“She’s here! I’ve got to go before she sees me!” With this, Arthur sprang backwards, startled.

“Out the back then, so she won’t notice.” He ordered, stepping aside. “And Merlin?” The other man was already out the door, but popped his head back in at the sound of his own name.

“Yeah?” 

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Thanks again for the help.”

“Anything for you, sire.” He said, and took off running.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Kudos and comments are appreciated, although not necessary. Feel free to give feedback


End file.
